alternate TRF ending
by cunning bird
Summary: just a little idea that popped into my head for a anternate ending to TRF. I suck a summarys, haha. I couldn't think of a proper title.. so yeah. It's my second attempt at a Sherlock fanfic. Hope you all like!


John quickly and quietly followed Sherlock up to the roof. He stayed just in sight, being careful Sherlock didn't see or hear him. When they got to the top, he could swear he heard Moriarty playing 'stayin alive'. _How appropriate_. He thought sarcastically. He used the time to look around the roof. A few minutes later, he had spotted Moran, who was looking around for John. Thats when he stepped out of the shadows, just as Moriarty was telling Sherlock he had to jump.

"no, he really doesn't have to." John said. The two masterminds looked at him in surprise,

"what are you doing here?" Sherlock exclaimed. John stared at him, for once his gaze just as intense as Sherlocks.

"I have some unfinished business." he replied, before looking over to where he knew the sniper was.

"you can come out now." he yelled, and sure enough, out came Sebastian.

"Watson." he said with a nod.

"Moran." John replied, more venom in his voice.

"you two know each other?" Moriarty sounded surprised.

"of course we do." Moran snapped.

"we were in the same regiment." John growled.

Moran smiled a bit, "and what a _pleasure_ it was." he said.

John's hand instinctively went for his pistol.

"I told you not to come." Moriarty said to his sniper, clearly irritated that his orders weren't obeyed.

"Sebastian never was one for following the rules." John said, never taking his eyes off his enemy.

"but then again, neither were you." Moran replied with a smirk that was all too much like Moriarty.

"I was at least loyal to my friends." he growled, with a glare that was almost a exact replica of Sherlock. Forget shock, the geniuses were now extremely confused.

"yes... That always was your weakness." Sebastian said, his voice thoughtful.

"wait a minute, what are you two talking about?" Sherlock asked, glancing from one to the other. John raised his eyebrows, "i thought you would have figured it out by now. What about you, Moriarty?" the consulting criminal said nothing.

"ah, the geniuses confused. We should mark this in out calenders, Moran." John remarked. Sherlock glared, and Moran grinned at Sherlock.

"Moran here was the one who shot me." John said, taking out his pistol and aiming it at the other soldier.

"As well as one who was my closest 'friend'."

Moran tutted when John cocked the gun,

"now now John. You never were one to shoot a unarmed person."

"but you aren't unarmed. Your pistol is in your back pocket, hidden by your coat. I saw it when you were walking out." Moran grinned, and pulled it out, at first aiming at Watson, but then pointing it at Sherlock, not exactly aiming for a certain spot yet. That made John freeze.

"Moran, leave it." Moriarty said, voice low and dangerous.

"why?"

"Sherlock is _my_ toy. Which means I'm the one who gets to break him." he explained, glaring at his top sniper. John narrowed his eyes.

"aim it and you'll be dead before you can pull the trigger." he warned, taking a step foreward.

"now now, John."

"this is between you and me, Moran. Leave Sherlock out of it!"

"no fun." Moran said with a pout

"does it look like i want to have fun?" Watson hissed.

"your boring."

"your insane." they stared at each other, Sherlock and Jim looking from each other, to the soldiers, then back again, neither sure what to do. Moran's small movements with his hand that was holding the pistol went unnoticed to them, but John did.

Immediately he ran over, and tackled the other soldier to the ground, earning a shot in the same shoulder.

He yelled out in pain, but kept wrestling, the soldier in him shutting out the doctor and shoving the pain away for now.

They rolled, each loosing their pistols, and both fighting to keep the other away from their weapons, but John didn't know that Moran had another weapon. Pressing hard on the fresh gun wound, pain shot through John, causing him to loosen his grip just enough for him to reach the knife he had brought alone and stab it into John's side.

The blond gasped, his vision starting to see black spots, but kept pushing on.

Suddenly, he realized they had rolled several feet, and were now right by the edge.

He looked Moran dead in the eye, his steely gaze offering no remorse for what he was about to do. With a shove, and a grunt, he got Moran's heavy body thrown over the edge.

John stood on shaky legs, and looked over at Moriarty and Holmes.

"are you going to use that gun on me?" he questioned Jim, breathing heavily and noticing for the first time what looked like a pistol in his pocket.

Moriarty shook his head, a grin again appearing on his face.

"No, but i think i'll use it on your friend, and it appears you won't be too far behind." he answered with a chuckle, pulling out the gun.

Watson had had a feeling Jim was going to say that. The criminal had underestimated John's reflexes, and fierce loyalty and protection of Sherlock, despite the gun, and stab wound.

Before he could even get it halfway aimed, he was lying dead on the floor, blood making a puddle on the ground.

That was all it took for John.

Without anymore adrenaline keeping him going, he felt his body go limp, and he started falling. Sherlock darted over, catching him just in time. He wasn't even aware that Sherlock had called for a ambulance until he heard the sirens.

He was in so much pain, and so tired, he couldn't understand what Sherlock was saying. Actually, he could barely hear Sherlock at all, and barely registered he was gripping John's arm.

He passed out shortly after the paramedics arrived on the roof, welcoming the escape from pain.

When he woke, the first thing he was aware of was beeping, and a dull pain_, _and the seconds thing was Sherlocks gaze, but it was different this time.

Not the normal, 'i'm trying to piece you together' gaze, this was more 'i'm worried about you' gaze.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and looked over at Sherlock. Concern filled his blue-gray eyes. Concern and panic.

"John?"

"hey." John croaked out, surprised at his own voice.

"how are you feeling?"

"like I've been shot, and stabbed." John said, giving a weak smile

"They kept saying you might not wake up." Sherlock whispered, sounding close to tears.

John was surprised, more of the emotion in Sherlocks voice then the words.

"why?"

"you've been out for four days, and you died twice. The loss of blood made your body weaker, and the fight took most of your energy."

John managed a weak smile, "at least he didn't shoot my good shoulder." he said, half joking. Sherlock smiled, and half laughed half sobbed.

He buried his face into Johns chest, who in turn stroked Sherlocks black curls, and murmuring comforting words. Finally he settled down, and looked at John.

"don't _ever_ scare me like that agian." he whispered, voice shaking. John nodded, keeping his owns tears back,

"I won't." he whispered. Soon after, they both fell asleep like that, with Sherlock's head resting on John's chest, and John's hand in Sherlock's curls, both unknowingly having woven a unbreakable bond. That's how Lestrade found them when he came in later to check up on Sherlock, and see if John was awake, as well as how Mycroft found them when he check their cam. They both smiled, Lestrade thinking about how much John has helped Sherlock, and Mycroft thinking that maybe caring is a advantage after all.


End file.
